


The Language of Burning Coal

by solarpillar (solarwind)



Series: The thrush stands on your flesh [2]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Cannibalism, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarwind/pseuds/solarpillar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The king is jealous and lustful. Sequel to The Binding of Loki.</p><p>It turned semi-serious somehow and there is now a post-lockdown issues subplot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set years after the events of Devil Survivor. Naoya has cast away his humanity in order to spend eternity with his king, without intervals of death and rebirth.

"You could say," the king’s tongue of flesh licking Naoya’s pale neck, as tongues of fire speak in language of burning coal, "that I am jealous of Loki."

Naoya shifts, crushing orange and red and greying coal. Sparks and ashes speak defiance and passion, and yearning for warmth. The king is saddened yet pleased. The king tightens the bonds between them, hellish fire against all too human cold. The king pulls on Naoya’s hair, these strings of white illuminated, lustrous, red from burning coal. As if one could tug on them and receive music.

"Hurt me too, please," says the king, the coal burning with melancholy, "hurt me as you would hurt him."

"And why would I?" says Naoya in a brightening of feathers and darkening of coals, "My blade bears no ill will towards you."

"Because," the king’s thousand eyes open and close, each burning a tame and soothing red, "as fireless ashes yearn for warmth of ember, I yearn for attention of my brother, to know that I have not become useless ashes to be swept by the winds."

Naoya spreads his wings, thousand feathers of blades shining, red from hellfire, the metallic rustling stirring flames into words, “I fail to see why you would consider yourself useless. As my pawn, perhaps, but a being is more than a use. But very well. If my king so wishes, I shall please and pleasure the king.” And then, in tongue of flesh and a language of mankind, “Pick a safeword, Kazuya.”

The king descends, and speaks with his tongue of flesh in a language of man, “...I can't think of one, to be honest. How about 'braised lamb chop'?”

“Seriously, Abel.” Naoya descends as well, black feathers giving way to pale skin.

“Come on, nobody speaks of braised lamb chop during sex, so it makes sense.”

“...You are taunting me, aren't you?” Naoya pulls out a bunch of ropes and chains from under his haori.

“I might be.” The king licks his lips in a way he imagines to be erotic. It came out merely creepy.

“You are not going to fit into society if you bare your dark desires like this.”

“Discipline me, then!” The king strips himself bare.

Naoya picks a thorny rope from the tangled mess, and it frees itself like water through fingers. It slithers to the king, its thorns folded, and like a crafty serpent it binds the king immobile. The folded thorns are smooth as glass, but each struggle warrants a sting, numbing yet arousing. Some kind of poison.

“I thought plants no longer grow for you.” The king says, relaxing as he gets used to the thorny bind.

“No,” Naoya confirms, “not for me.”

Naoya pulls the king close, fingers tangled in hair and digging in scalp. They are not kissing. They breathe and share their breath, lungs heaving in manners of living men.

Not that they are dead, of course. Gods and demons have no such distinction. They perform a function or obey a contract, or they do not exist. Mankind exists in itself, live love and hate to their pleasure, as beasts do, and die as itself. Divinities, on the other hand, exist only in memories and minds, always a purpose and rarely a person, and die as deformed perceptions and forgotten words. Divinities do not return to dust. They become mysteries, dreaming in the expanse, waiting for a summon, or a remembering, or a rediscovery. To cast away one's humanity means cessation as a mortal and becoming a memory, a thought, a concept subject to mutations and mummifications, to become eventually a twisted fixed concept barely semblant to its birth, to be killed by mankind.

God is dead. Gods are dead. Mankind has killed them, and they stay dreaming in minds of the mads and the romantics, waiting for a song.

Naoya and his king, though they have cast away their humanity, remember themselves as men. And women. And children and intersexed beings, of all races and cultures, two portraits of mankind.

They will not die, not the way men do. But they can live and love and hate, as beasts do, and live as themselves. They have twisted desires as men do, and in their desires they expose their demonhood, as men do, craving for apples forbidden.

Naoya desired his brother because it was forbidden. The beloved bel desired Naoya despite it was forbidden. Then they simply want, and the very concept of forbidden become nothing but a toy and a torn and used label.

The king shifts under his lover, and lets thorns tear his skin open. He does not flinch or scream. He has felt worse. This isn't even close. He isn't in danger. Not only because he trusts Naoya, but because he trusts himself, trusts that he is powerful enough on his own. Naoya cannot hurt them, not in a way contrary to the king's will.

“Now,” Naoya says, salivating from the scent of divine blood, “what does the king desire?”

“To be dominated,” the king replies, “to be made subservient, to be enslaved, to be reminded that you are the older son and I the younger, to be reminded that you are my master and kingmaker, the one holding power over me.”

Naoya seriously considers, for a fraction of second, to order his cousin to the kitchen and wash dishes. They have piled for days in the sinks, and the oily residues must be difficult to wash.

“So? Your pawn is waiting.” the king says, impatient. He better not be thinking of incredibly vanilla and domestic things again. Not that the king would not enjoy them too, but lately it's been so domestic and platonic that the king suspects Naoya to be finding excuses to postpone sex.

Naoya pushes away thoughts of dishes and desserts, and focuses on the blood.

Naoya enjoys blood. He enjoys cutting living and dead things open, to see the inner workings, and to slice them up and eat them as food. He enjoys cutting his enemies, to watch them bleed and die, to see them writhe in agony that he himself knows so well, to watch and think _serves you right_.

Naoya does not enjoy seeing his brother bleed. It takes him back to that field, where the ground opened up to drink his brother's blood as if accepting an offering. He remembers the crows that scratched the soil to teach him how to hide his sin. He remembers when he heard the approaching of god and when he failed to dig fast enough, for his hands were bare and his trusted tools were nowhere near, dumped the body in a well like a shameful thing rather than the his once beloved brother. The mourning, the self-imposed exile, the endless roadless fields that stretched seemly to infinity with only animal blood for water.

Naoya licks his brother's blood. It does not taste like animal blood, not the earthy rusty taste so close to dust. It does not taste like angel blood, not the intoxicating wine that fills the drinker with filthy magic of the upper spheres. Not the blood of pagan gods, not like Loki's, not like any god or demon's. It barely tastes human, yet so human. The salty-sweet-acidic taste, the mixes of emotions and ideals, so chaotic and so lawful, such solemn light about it and such darkness. Akin to a divine beast, fragrant, like the Bull of Heaven slain and shared behind the cedar gates.

 _Sacrificial lamb_ , he remembers, and continues to drink.

“You are hardly disciplining me. Are you hungry?” the king asks, concerned.

“Hungry and thirsty,” Naoya replies.

The king spreads himself, the ivy of thorns loose, almost innocent. “Go ahead and eat then.”

“I'd rather you cook me some lamb.”

“A break then?”  
“Sure. I think we have a frozen piece in the freezer.”

“Alright.” The king dresses himself, believing naked apron would be inappropriate. “You wash the dishes. I'll cook.”

 _I'm always the one washing the dishes_. Naoya thought. But cooking does take more energy, and Naoya is not above sloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naoya's demon form is inspired by his Ars Goetia form, that of a thrush or blackbird holding a sabre and standing over burning coal.


	2. Sin

Seven days on Earth, and not a single day back to the Netherworld. Truly, this is a vacation.

Naoya appreciates returning to human world. He did not enjoy the royal chamber his brother kept him in, despite how much power it has nourished him with, despite how much it was done with good intention, despite it was his brother doing it to him. The stay was simply too forceful, and Naoya did not enjoy been kept against his will.

His brother is a great king, just as was expected of him. In conclusion of the war, the mighty king has, on top of restoring the barrier, brought the tower of Babel with him to the Nether, and planted it like a tree. He has fused it with the essence of many, from Yggdrasil to Mimameidr, from Esagila to Jacob’s Ladder, until it was not only a living tower, but a superdomain of its own. On the roots and branches of New Babel are domains like gardens, small worlds full of wonders. The branches reach all the way to the broken Battlefield and ruined Silver City, and between branches, where dews of light and darkness gather, seeds of universes wait to bloom.

Naoya was proud of his brother's work. Cain did not inherit the spark of creation alone. It was dormant in Abel for ages, but under Naoya's tutelage it has grown beautiful.

Even if it involved Naoya turning into a demon and spending days in a makeshift university, teaching the king how to do simple demiurgic mathematics that allow worlds to stay in place rather than collapse as soon as the maker leaves. Sustainable architectures aren't easy.

In turn, Naoya was literally chained to the king at night, or what passed as night in Nether, in a so-called bed that was always on fire. The proximity to the king allows Naoya's power to awake faster than natural, albeit still progressively, not to mention the amount absorbed from the aura that radiated off the king and New Babel itself. It was payment. So he could defend himself in case of assassinations, or so the king said. With the curse gone he better have power matched only by the king, if not surpassing that of the king, and New Babel is open to both of the siblings.

The sentiment is appreciated. Naoya does enjoy being protected and cared for, especially by his brother. But in human world, among mortals, he has no need of such power, and this knowledge puts him more at ease than his brother's divine intervention.

The human world did not change much during his absence. Few years after the Lockdown, and people seem to have forgotten it, mostly. The existence of demons and angels were covered up, so even if people remembered, they had to remember in relative silence. Discussions of the event are still active over forums and blogs, in schools and parties, and in confidential files passed around the world. The barriers are restored, however, and the COMPs are inactive, so no demon ever surfaced again. The Shomonkai is still up and running, worshipping Bel Abel as its new god, advocating kindness over bloodshed, but bloodshed when needed.

And, four years after the Lockdown, the apartment close to Naoya's is still empty.

He stood before it for a while, remembering perfectly what exactly happened behind these doors. Torn and devoured. What an unpleasant way to die. It was done by a messy eater who didn't bother to finish the corpse and clean the place, a low-ranked demon closer to wild beasts than intelligent gods. Loki had better table manners, chaotic and troublesome as he was.

Footsteps. Not Kazuya, and not another of Naoya's neighbour. It is a woman, about the age of Naoya's current aunt. The sadness in her eyes is one that Naoya understands too well.

The victim's mother.

She hesitated when she saw him looking at her son's apartment, trying to decipher whether he was an acquaintance or just a man searching for a new place to live. He nods to her.

“Excuse-me, are you...?”

The woman stops. The face of Naoya is not that of a concerned friend.

The new footsteps are of Kazuya, bags in both hands. The cousin sees Naoya's situation, quickly frees a hand by shifting the bags to the other, and grabs Naoya on the arm.

“Come on. Let's go home.”

Said home is Naoya's apartment. They did not look back as the door closed.

For minutes, the corridor stays silent safe for one person's breathing. Then, laden with hesitation, the sound of the woman entering her son's apartment, and a slow lock of the door.

The door of Naoya's apartment locks in turn.

Kazuya sinks on the floor. Naoya stays standing, not visibly harmed.

“...I.”

“You cannot save everyone.”

“...you meant for him to die.” The fire in the king's eyes are too familiar.

“He was a nuisance alive, and a great use dead. I did what was logical considering the situation.”

“What are you? An angel?”

The accusation hurt. Naoya's eery similitude to angels was often noted, but never admitted. Anti-king demons have called them Children of Angels and Sons of God as slurs.

“...forget what I said. ” The king regains some composure. Supper needs to be made. “You are a noble man, even if you do less than noble things for sake of the end. You mean well, and you don't crave excessive power. That makes you the best adviser.” The king tries to smile. “Even if I can't agree with you sometimes. I need your ruthlessness.”

“And I need your kindness.” Naoya kisses his king's hand.

“You are already kind.” The king finally manages to smile.

Naoya does mean well, Kazuya understands; he simply fails to do well at times.

Once supper was consumed, their nightly routine starts. For days, the king has been trying to seduce his king-consort to be. The first night was attempted BSDM bondage interrupt by Naoya's hunger for braised lamb chops. The second night, Kazuya washed himself well and posed naked in bed. Naoya simply mumbled oh, traditional sleeping just like back in the day of ancient Mesopotamia right in middle of an irrigated desert, undressed completely and fell asleep next to him. The third night turned into a cocktail mixing competition. Fourth night barely left any sleep for them after the bed was set on fire and none of them was aroused in any way. Fifth was wasted on an intense modified version of game of Twenty Squares that ended in draw. Sixth gave birth to a full blown sandbox role playing game that they are planning to sell in November, they just need some artworks done.

Seventh night, Kazuya is hopeful. Naoya was just reminded of yet another sin of his, and like most sins that he isn't too proud of, the king-consort to be would try to fix it. First he would ease the emotional damage done to the king, and then-

A knock at the door. Just when Naoya has finished tying one of the king's arm to the new bed's bed post.

The woman of the dead son. She carries a small bag under her left arm.

“Excuse me for bothering you. But, could you have known-”

The woman was searching for an answer, of course. No one dies of beast bite in a city, especially when reports are so vague as on what kind of beast it was. There wasn't any beast that it could have been linked to, not one in the mortal plane. She was suspicious, of course. Humans cannot live without answers.

“You were his neighbour back then, wasn't you? I've heard the rumours. You wrote the programming language that summoned demons.”

Well isn't that a well-informed lady. Kazuya was almost panicking, while Naoya was completely unfazed.

“Yes, indeed: I did.”

“Was it a demon? That killed my son?”

“Yes.”

“I see...”

The woman was relieved, somehow.

“Then there is nothing that can be done anymore.”

She stands up, ready to leave. Kazuya stands in a way to ask her to stay, arm half-stretched. She sits back down.

“Kids,” the woman resumes, “if a man kills a man, it is murder. If anything else kills a man, it is heavenly fate. It was the night before the lockdown, no doubt part of the first outbreak. Wasn't there a vampire-related serial murder going on shortly before his death, too? I head that demons broke in because one of the guardian deities was killed. I heard that demons were fighting in our world because it was how they chose their king. The king was chosen, I heard, and the barrier was restored. The peace is back. There is nothing that we can do, as we as humans are powerless. My son died a natural death. There is no vengeance to be had.”

With that, the woman stands to leave again.

But it is Naoya who stops her this time.

“What if I killed him?”

The woman freezes.

Naoya does not make further explanation. They both wait for other to continue, but Naoya makes no hint that he will, so the woman starts:

“Then I will kill you.”

Kazuya hurries between them, arms stretched protectively before Naoya.

“But not now.” The woman looks at her bag. Kazuya can smell a definitive killing intent, akin to Mari's at memory of her lover's death. The woman does want Naoya dead. “I have another child now,” the woman says, seemly not bothered by the slight possibility that Naoya might hurt that new child too, “I gave birth to her a year after my son's death. If I kill you here, I will not be able to be there for my daughter.” She holds her bag closer. “Therefore, will you please wait for me? I will be the one to take your life, once my daughter is grown and in good hands.”

“Very well,” Naoya is nonchalant, “I give you permission to take my head off my neck whenever you are ready, for one time during your lifetime.”

“Overruled. Your life is mine. I will not allow it.”

Kazuya's stance is clear to all parties: he will kill the woman should she accepts.

“And who are you to overrule his decision, child?” The killing intent is burning like wolf smoke. “I lost my child to him. My son was almost a grown man. He has just started his life as an adult, only to have it cut short. By a man. This is not fate. This is murder. And it is done by a grown man, who has admitted his crime and chosen to surrender his life to me as compensation.”

The woman starts to smell something other than human. Distinct aura of darkness begins to grow, and she may as well as be a demoness. Then, as fast as it appeared, it fades again.

“But I have no right to take away what is important to you, of course. Keep him, whatever your relationship may be. Brothers? You two definitely share a bloodline. But remember that your brother is a murderer, and you should not allow him should he lets his base instincts roam again.”

With this, the woman left.

Kazuya breathes in relief. But Naoya seems... happy? Satisfied. Interested. Kazuya knows this look, the gleam in his eyes whenever Kazuya did something that exceeds Naoya's expectation in pleasant way.

“Did you see that, brother?”

“See what?” Kazuya isn't sure which part caught Naoya's attention. That the woman held back? That the woman tried to kill him? That Kazuya stopped her? That she chose to hold back out of empathy?

“She almost crossed over. Indeed, without god, the darkness in humanity is allowed to grow.”

“You mean...”

“They can become demons. It used to be difficult, but now it seems to be easier. I did not anticipate this. What a pleasant surprise.”

Kazuya isn't pleased. But that was very Naoya, and he did not expect more.

“Don't worry,” Naoya reassures, “the barrier is still up. Should any human become demon, they will simply be banished to the demon world. No harm will be done from that.”

“Naoya.” Kazuya says, grabbing Naoya by the collar. “I was wrong. I should be the one disciplining you.”

With that, he lifts Naoya off his feet and throws the scrawny sinner over his shoulder, marches towards the bed with his cousin's limbs bumping all over the place, and throws the king-consort to be down into the bed.

“I understand that you were not allowed children back then, they kept killing them with floods and heroes and stuff...” The king undresses violently, sounds of threads tearing audible. “SO I AM TO GET YOU A FUCKING CHILD AND ANOTHER AND ANOTHER UNTIL YOU GET YOUR EMPATHY BACK, YOU UNDERSTAND? You are not allowed to leave this room until you get me pregnant _by your king's order_.”

Naoya is sure that his brother has lost it. His logic has always been a train wreck of flying space trains, but that just seals it.

Then again, Naoya begins to understand Izanagi a little bit better.

 


	3. Witch

The king hands back the unfrozen pack of peas, and accepts another, colder, still frozen one.

“Keep this going and we’ll have just enough for pea soup.”

“Shut up.”

It hurts, where the Megidolaon hit. What hurt more was the guilt of almost forcing himself on the brother, but the king is glad that his brother takes bullshit from no one. Kind of cute, like a small bird. But just as fragile too. And violent.

“Are you alright though? I think I hit your head against the wall and door frame a few times…”

“I got knocked and ran over by a chariot pulled by bulls of all things back in 5th century Thrace, do you think composite wood leave me a grudge? Make it sky steel alloy first, and then I’ll consider.”

Kazuya was going to argue that he couldn’t have survived that, then remembers that he probably didn’t. All things considered, it’s great that they are both much less vulnerable than before, now that they can easily beat each other up without leaving lasting damage. Or accidental murder.

 

“I’m going for a walk,” Naoya suddenly says, “check the local morgue if I don’t come back.”

“What? Now? It’s 3 AM!”

“Exactly. The best way to measure the safety of a settlement is to take a little walk around the dimmest area while looking like a frail woman. I’m doing quality check.”

“What? Why?”

“Can’t you see? We left this world alone, without Angels, for four years. I wanna see if anything changed. So far the news is unchanged, but local changes may be present. Did the lockdown affect crime rate of this area? Tourist rate? Demon-producing rate? I’m interested in this again.”

Kazuya thinks of the woman earlier, who almost changed. “I’m going with you.”

“There’s no need. Stay home, I want breakfast in the morning.”

“Breakfast is in 4 hours.”

“Yeah, but Loki might crash the party. Make sure he doesn’t eat my favourites.”

With that, Naoya left.

 

Kazuya is at loss of what to do. Breakfast, yes, but he doesn’t need to start until in 3 hours. Sleep? The entire bedroom is scorched from that megidolaon. The living room is an option…

But something was there. He knows that scent.

“Loki.”

The god stands up from behind the couch and did a mock curtsy. “At your service, my king.”

“You weren’t at the war with us at all.”

“Oh oh oh, but you did win, didn’t you? You didn’t need me, and I am a weak, fragile, useless demon to have around. I am no fighter, you know that.” He winks. “I’m a pretty good lover though, if you want to try.”

Kazuya sneers in disgust. “No thanks.”

“Naoya’s pretty found of me. My #1 client and fan, actually! He buys my service very often.”

“Are you here for war, Loki?”

“War?” The trickster god laughs. “No, not at all! I am rather weak, you see. A quarrel, maybe. Flyt. Rap battle. Not war.”

“Oh? I’m pretty good at rap, so you better not disappoint.”

“But first, my king,” Loki waits, nudging slowly towards the window, attracting his attention, “let’s watch a show.”

That is the direct where Naoya went.

“Tell me, little brother,” Loki laughs, less human and more hyena, “do you remember witch hunts?”

He does, and he wants to kill Loki on the spot.


	4. Awkward

"Disappointing!"

When Kazuya finally reached Naoya, that was the only word Naoya said. Not even loudly.

Kazuya, on the other hand, is breathing in relief.

There is nobody in the streets. As if there is a curfew. In a city like this there used to be many delinquents and night owls out at this time, but now there is nothing. No taxi, no street-side food stands, no bars, no white collars partying after work, no teenagers, no homeless people picking up empty cans. Nothing. Few windows are still lit, proof of living people perhaps, but nobody walked outside.

Was it like this before? The first six days, they stayed in because Kazuya spend every minute after sunset to woo Naoya, but shouldn't they notice that absence?

"Look, full moon." Naoya points with his chin. "Tastes great, doesn't it? Like fresh honey wine."

It does. The demonic energy the moon gave off... filtered and reflected sunlight, with only the good stuff. A demon could decide to eat nothing but this. It makes both of them a little uneasy. Lesser demons can easily get drunk on this and lose control.

"Naoya... the woman today..."

"Yes. Without a doubt. Some must have turned before. Humans are avoiding the moon as a precaution, it seems." 

Kazuya remembers Yuzu, sitting on a park bench alone at night. He also remembers another aspect of Yuzu, fearlessly challenging gangsters and their demons with demons of her own. "If one has confidence in oneself, this could be the perfect time to walk around like one owns the city."

"Well, I guess this means the city is ours to-"

Kazuya sealed Naoya's lips with his own, and slips his hands into Naoya's pants.

"-well if it's ours to fuck in can we at least do that on a bed, I don't want to stand the entire time."

"Hush," Kazuya says, panting a little despite no longer need air, "this moonlight is making me really horny right now."

"It's just food," Naoya protests, "It's like getting horny from drinking the equivalent of coffee with vodka. It's not supposed to make you horny."

"Vodka doesn't make you horny?" Kazuya says in disbelief, his hands still working on Naoya.

"No it doesn't? What kind of alcohol is supposed to do that? People say that it does only to give themselves an excuse or to market the product."

"No wonder you don't know why Gin was so pissed at you. How many times have you drunk with Aya?"

"It was strictly professional. We were being cordial. It was... professional pleasure, alright?"

Kazuya pushes Naoya against a wall, lips and tongue on the neck. "Mm. Like this."

"No. Wait. You know Loki is watching us, right?"

Kazuya freezes. In the corner of his eyes he can see Loki smirking, half-hiding behind a building in a comical way, and giving him a thumb-sup.

Kazuya sneers. "...that pervert. First he skips the war, now this-"

"What?" Naoya blinks, a hand on Kazuya's shoulder for balance.

"What?" Kazuya mirrors, unsure of the question.

"What do you mean, 'skips the war'? Loki was at the front of your army, then moved around but never left. I had his signal near you all the time."

"Well he wasn't actually fighting?"

"He did, I think. Either way, his skill must have delayed your enemies by a lot. You know, Tyrant."

"Fine." Kazuya attempts to resume.

"No, wait. Think, Kazuya. Why would Loki want this? He is the trickster. It can't be good."

Loki is still smiling, if not smiling more. Almost unnaturally wide. He is pointing the other way.

The cousins turn to look. Oh.

It's Yuzu. Standing there, in casual wear, staring at them. she drops her bag. One of Kazuya's hand is still inside Naoya.

Naoya does not know if he should be proud of Kazuya's calm or be ashamed. It seems to only get worse.


End file.
